


Lazy Sunday Afternoon

by Emilywho



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:13:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emilywho/pseuds/Emilywho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A client comes to visit 221B, who has some familiar traits to an old friend. Unnamed housemate at 221B living with Sherlock,</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Sunday Afternoon

Lazy Sunday afternoon. I am curled up on the brown leather sofa with my small sketchbook, pondering over what film to watch later. Outside it’s autumn, grey and more grey.  
You pace around the kitchen in your blue dressing gown while the blender is on full speed, echoed and made slightly louder by the kitchen.  
“Do you really have to do that now?” I say, straining my neck around to see what is making the racket.  
“I need to see the consistency of blood when blended.” Your tone is serious, if not a little desperate.  
“Why?” I turn back to my sketchbook.  
“For a case.”  
A case, it’s always for a case. This weekend has been unusually quiet on the case front, you must be catching up on some older work. My one and only day off is going to be spent as peacefully as possible.   
“Are you going to be much longer? You know, you could always practice on your violin. That sound I do like.”  
You completely ignore me and stare intensely at the spoon with frothed blood sliding off it.  
It’s a wonder John had the patience when he lived here.  
I am wrapped up in a bubble of concentration while sketching a part of a bird’s wing, so much so I almost can’t hear the sound of the blender, when the doorbell rings.  
You have a look on your face when the doorbell rings, especially when it’s a client, of course knowing this from the pressure and length of the ring.  
“Client!” You jump out of the kitchen, splats of blood on your shirt and dressing gown and leap downstairs.  
“You not going to change?!” First impressions count Sherlock…

I sit up and straighten out my clothes ready for the arrivals. I hear 2, no, 3 sets of footsteps coming up the stairs.  
“My apologies for interrupting your Sunday! My name’s Smith, James Smith.” A Scottish voice says while opening the door. In walks a tall, slim man in a dark blue coat, with what seems to be a red lining as it sweeps around the corner. A young woman follows. Not much older than myself, bright eyed, I note that I really like her dress.  
“Good afternoon, not a problem! Please, take a seat.” I grab the kitchen chairs and position them in ‘the spot’ in front of yours and John’s chair. I still call it John’s chair, it will never be mine, besides he’s always around anyway.  
You walk in moments after with a gleeful look on your face, this is the exciting bit, people coming in with their stories, never knowing what they will say.  
“I hear you are the best,” The Scottish man begins, “please forgive the intrusion, only I have something I need help with.”  
“Please, go on.” You have suddenly exchanged your dressing gown for a black blazer and sit in your chair.  
The young woman hasn’t said a word yet. She just sits still, one arm across her lap, the other hand up to her face, as if she’s stifling a sneeze.  
“You see Mr Holmes, it’s my cat. She’s gone missing. She’s a ginger tabby cat called Melody, and just the other day she went out for some fresh air and never came back….”  
I can already sense the glee drain from you, just another missing pet. I know you wanted something dangerous so I take a quick glance at you while Mr Smith is talking. Your gaze is fixed on the window, and something outside. Your concentration has gone, you are not interested.  
“Ok Mr Smith, while you recall your story, may I get you a cup of tea? And your friend?” I stand to head towards the kitchen, I need a word with you.  
“That would be lovely thank you, milk and one, Clara here will have the same.”  
I walk to the kitchen while motioning you over.  
“You could at least pretend to be interested, this pet means a lot to someone.” I say with some urgency, but you look almost amused. Like you are part of some inside joke.  
“Sorry. Fascinating case.”   
I roll my eyes and continue to make tea. I can overhear you try to make small talk with the clients, bless you.  
“So you travel a lot do you Mr Smith?”  
“Why yes I do. Now is that the infamous Holmes observations I am witnessing here? Fantastic!” My ears prick up. Why does that sound familiar?  
“Anywhere interesting?” You never ask these sorts of questions, I start to feel a little uncomfortable.  
“Ah yes, Europe most recently. The French are amazing aren't they? Such great attitudes towards life. I learnt a new word out there, ‘Allonsy!’ it means let’s go.” Hang on a minute. I stop making the tea and my mind wanders. I am just making rash connections in my mind with these random words, it doesn't mean anything I tell myself. I’m tired, that’s all.  
“I tell you now, there was some risky moments in Alaska! Wasn't there Clara?” I turn my head to slyly look at the conversation, Clara just quickly nods, “all those Bad Wolves.” Without realising I’d whizzed around to face the clients. Right, time to do my own detective work. If this is who I think it might be, amazing! If not I could make a fool of myself in front of genuine clients let alone you.

“Travelling you say?” I start my cross examination, “I tell you where I’d love to go, somewhere you could see the stars really clear, you know, Denmark, Norway, The Tardis?” My tactic here to just casually slip a clue in, could just be seen as a misunderstanding if they….  
“Hahaha!! Oh my God, that was tough, I thought I was going to burst!” Clara squeaks.  
I am temporarily dazed, I glance at you and you smirk with a low chuckle.   
It is The Doctor!  
“Doctor! You sneaky….!” The Doctor reveals a wide grin and stands up, proud of his achievement, arms open wide.  
“Sorry kidda, too good to miss, heard you were in these parts with the famous Mr Holmes!” I walk towards and hug him, it’s different, and his face is different.  
“You’ve regenerated!”  
“Twice since we last met. What do you think?”  
“Not bad, still got the humour I see. And James Smith?”  
“I thought John might have given it away. I think I’ll stick to John.” I suddenly realise that you were encouraging the travel stories. I turn to you to see you still giggling.  
“How did you know?”  
“As always you see but not observe. There is suddenly a blue Police Box parked outside, pretty hard to miss.” Fair point.  
“And this is Clara.” The Doctor introduces Clara while she stands and shakes my hand.  
“I’m so sorry! I did suggest it would be nicer to explain from the start, but this regeneration is a bit of a sod.” She seems nice, I’d love to share travelling stories with her at some point.

“OK,” The Doctor addresses both me and you, “we’re not here for a holiday, and we need your help.”


End file.
